


I Respect Your Feelings as a Woman and a Human

by Kantayra of Yore (Kantayra)



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-10-01
Updated: 2003-10-01
Packaged: 2017-10-19 04:20:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/196810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kantayra/pseuds/Kantayra%20of%20Yore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spike returns from Africa with his brand spanking new soul, and now only the amazing power of the SONG-fic can win Buffy back to him. Everyone's worst nightmare of how S7 could have turned out. A completely goofy parody.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Respect Your Feelings as a Woman and a Human

Buffy really didn’t have time for this. She had more than enough on her plate what with buying herself a new designer – and incredibly tacky – outfit per hour on Doublemeat salary, being ‘supportive’ of her sister which mostly consisted of forgetting she even existed, and simultaneously forgiving the entire population of the earth for their faults with the sole exception of the vampire that had just dropped onto her doorstep. Literally.

“Spike, I don’t have time for this,” she whined, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms in front of her incredibly expensive blouse that managed to be both scandalously revealing and completely unflattering all at once.

With a groan, Spike picked himself up from the pavement and shook off the impact of the fall. Apparently, it didn’t strike _him_ as unusual that he’d just dropped down from the sky, either. Which, actually, makes more sense than driving to Africa and back on a motorcycle. Especially if you’re, say, a vampire and highly flammable during the daylight hours.

It was around this time that Buffy actually bothered to register something other than distaste for the vampire before her and noticed that the sexy, leather-clad Spike she had once known had apparently gone through the same terrible wardrobe department she had. What looked to be Giles’ old tweed hand-me-downs, geeky wire-rim glasses, and that horrible poofy brown wig he’d worn back in all those flashback scenes now formed his ensemble. In fact, he wasn’t sexy of leather-clad at all. He actually looked like a complete dork. That could only mean…

“Spike?” Buffy ventured hesitantly, eyes open wide and blinking _really_ slowly in an effort to look emotional or just, you know, like a deer caught in the headlights. “H-How can…?”

Around this point, Spike suddenly found his place in the script because he cut Buffy right off. Just as well since it was just going to be more wide-eyed slow blinking, anyway. Except, instead of talking like a normal person, he felt the sudden, irrational need to break out into SONG, a concept so holy that even the word SONG must always be written in all capitals.

And, voice screeched up at a high pitch that made him sound like his balls were in a vise and had dogs covering their ears in pain, he began:

 _I was watering my rose garden and you walked by my place._   
_I almost ran up to you in a lustful, unsensitive haste._   
_I almost cried cause I acted so insensitive,_   
_But I wanted you to know about the feather-soft warmth I could give._

Buffy sniffed and blinked _really_ slowly. After all, it was pretty much the only facial expression she had anymore. But that didn’t mean that THE SONG didn’t touch her deeply. It fit them so perfectly, what with…er, it just _did_. Because, obviously, why else would Spike sing it?

“Oh Spike, it’s all right,” Buffy insisted, hands clasped over her heart in a dreamy manner. “I forgive you for being all evil and tempting and—”

He cut her off with a raised finger of warning, though, because he had reached THE REFRAIN. THE REFRAIN was even more sacred than THE SONG because it provided THE MESSSAGE. It’s also repeated and over and over again which certainly isn’t tedious in the slightest. Especially when you’re, you know, just _reading_ the lyrics or anything.

Buffy listened in rapt fascination.

 _I respect your feelings._   
_I respect your gender._   
_I respect your existence._   
_I’ll always be tender,_   
_’Cause I respect your feelings_   
_As a woman and a human._

In the interval, the make-up department had sneakily put false tears on Buffy’s cheeks. What with that and the _really_ slow blinking ™, it was clear that she was moved. _Really_ moved. Really, deeply, completely moved. After all, the sentiment described everything she loved about Spike and was such a realistic goal for how their relationship would work.

Hoping that he was through with the high-pitched caterwauling, Buffy opened her mouth to speak again, but she was cruelly tricked by the arrival of the second verse.

 _I’ll be the pansy-growing gardener of our bouquet of love,_   
_A flower-wielding soldier with the grace of a dove._   
_I’ll love you all, heart, mind and soul. I’d never think of anything cheap._   
_I’ll read you some of my poems before you go to sleep._

Buffy sniffled and was deeply touched, although she wasn’t really sure by what because – like you – she just scrolled down through the stupid song to get to the rest of the damn story. She was sure it had to be deeply significant to their relationship, though, because after all it was part of THE SONG.

And, realizing that his audience was fast fading, Spike quickly finished up with another screeching rendition of THE REFRAIN. Which adds extra meaning to this whole story. Really, it does.

 _I respect your feelings._   
_I respect your gender._   
_I respect your existence._   
_I’ll always be tender,_   
_’Cause I respect your feelings_   
_As a woman and a human._

“Oh Spike,” Buffy sighed, making sure she’d waited an adequate amount of time that another verse couldn’t sneak up on her. “I can’t believe you…”

“Yes, for you, Buffy, I…” he continued in a voice that was still an octave too high.

“…Got your soul!”

“…Got rid of my balls.”

Buffy blinked at the discrepancy for a second before shaking her head. “Same difference,” she shrugged. “Oh, I love you so much now, Spike,” she sniffed. “Before I was all conflicted, but now that you’ve sung a SONG, I have no choice but to fall madly in love with you for no explicable emotional reason.” She frowned for a second. “Except for, y’know, that last time you sang for me and I didn’t. Huh. Must’ve been a fluke in the universe…”

“’S all right, luv,” Spike continued to squeak in a ridiculously high voice. “I realize now that I was _wrong_ to provide you with hours of wonderful sex. I’ll never jeopardize your position as permanently sexually frustrated Female Role Model again. So, from now on, ‘m turning into the most non-threatening, safe, _boring_ boy in the world.”

Buffy’s eyes teared up again. “Thank you,” she whispered. “It’s working, too. I’m not attracted to you at all anymore. Hell, even _Parker_ looked less gay. So, I guess that means…”

“We can be together now?” Spike squealed hopefully.

Buffy nodded. “You’re redeemed,” she agreed, reaching over to hold his hand and looking at him with big, wide eyes.

Spike looked back at her with an equally sappy expression. “Can we go pick flowers now and engage in other wholesome activities before I get you back home promptly at eight o’clock each night until even the most hopeless of Spuffy shippers turns off the television in disgust?” he asked hopefully.

“Lets,” Buffy agreed with a wide smile, skipping down the garden path beside him.

And, just in case you were distracted by the story, the Entire. Frickin’. SONG. suddenly decided to start playing again:

 _I was watering my rose garden and you walked by my place._   
_I almost ran up to you in a lustful, unsensitive haste._   
_I almost cried cause I acted so insensitive,_   
_But I wanted you to know about the feather-soft warmth I could give._

 _I respect your feelings._   
_I respect your gender._   
_I respect your existence._   
_I’ll always be tender,_   
_’Cause I respect your feelings_   
_As a woman and a human._

 _I’ll be the pansy-growing gardener of our bouquet of love,_   
_A flower-wielding soldier with the grace of a dove._   
_I’ll love you all, heart, mind and soul. I’d never think of anything cheap._   
_I’ll read you some of my poems before you go to sleep._

 _I respect your feelings._   
_I respect your gender._   
_I respect your existence._   
_I’ll always be tender,_   
_’Cause I respect your feelings_   
_As a woman and a human._

And, just in case there’s _still_ too much story per song, here’s THE REFRAIN an _extra_ time for no good reason:

 _I respect your feelings._   
_I respect your gender._   
_I respect your existence._   
_I’ll always be tender,_   
_’Cause I respect your feelings_   
_As a woman and a human._

The End (Thank god)


End file.
